Raw Wrists & Wild Eyes

I tied myself down and locked the chains for good measure
begging my mind to accept this as home
staring at the same faces
routine starving my soul
my eyes grow wild, feral
memories stored in the muscles of my palms start bending pins fished from blonde tangles
practice turns the gears in self-secured locks
picking my way out of the life I had once been convinced I wanted, needed
rubbing raw wrists fingers tracing scars carved by manacles of lives fled
versions of myself left in the shadows of healed flesh
glancing over my shoulder I run finding new faces and new chains
I dare not speak promises of forever but commit anyway
subdued, locked down, finished running
waiting for raw wrists and wild eyes

The End

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